The Older Man (6 page)

“Not you!” she retorted, and swept by him to the door.

“You look very nice,” her father told her, and she instantly wanted to run back inside and change into something else, but it was too late.

They were not the only ones invited, she discovered. By eight-thirty almost everyone who had attended the wedding was there. The house was an old one that Celeste had lived in before her marriage to Ethan, and her workroom had been cleared for the party, the tables she used for her fabric painting covered with white cloths and holding an array of food, glasses and drinks from which the guests were invited to help themselves.

Rennie drank two glasses of white wine and talked to Ethan’s aunt, and tried not to allow her eyes to stray toward the door every five minutes.

“Enjoying yourself?” Ethan asked as she returned to the ‘bar’ to refill her glass.

“Lovely, thanks,” she answered. “You’re looking well. Celeste is, too. I’m very glad for you, Ethan.”

“So am I. I nearly blew it, you know. What are you drinking?” He took her glass.

“I was drinking wine, but I’ll have an orange juice now, thanks. You’re going back to Sheerwind soon?”

“Yes, we miss the island. We’re keeping this house on, though. Celeste still has a share in the shop where she sells her fabrics and clothing. This will be a handy base when either of us needs to visit Auckland on business. We plan to divide our time between here and the house on Sheerwind. You must visit us there.”

“I’d love to.”

“Good. Here’s your orange juice.” He was handing it to her when Grant walked into the room, and somehow the juice slopped onto her hand.

“Sorry!” Ethan grabbed a paper napkin and began mopping up the spill.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she assured him. She concentrated her attention on the small mishap, putting down the glass to wipe her hand with the fresh napkin Ethan handed to her. By the time Grant had walked over to the table she was able to greet him with a careless smile, and her hand when she retrieved her glass was quite steady.

She saw the slight reserve with which the two men greeted each other. “You’ve seen Celeste?” Ethan asked as he poured the other man a drink.

“Yes. She seems very … contented.”

“She is.” Ethan’s glance was straight.

Grant nodded. “I’m glad. Congratulations again.”

“Thanks. Well, if you two are happy, I think I’ll go and join my wife.”

“You’re late,” Rennie told Grant, and then flushed. She hadn’t meant it to sound like an accusation.

“I got held up.” He took a good swallow of his drink, as though he felt the need of it. “Is there anywhere to sit?”

“There are chairs in the other room, but I think they’re all occupied. Are you tired?”

“Tired,” he said, “is a wholly inadequate word.”

“What have you been doing?”

“Trailing around the zoo all day with two kids. I thought I was reasonably fit, but — ” he shook his head, ” — today I’m feeling my years.”

“Do you have custody?”

“No, they live with their mother and I have them every second weekend. And I’m rapidly running out of ideas of where to take them.”

“How old is Ellen’s brother?”

“Toby’s eight.”

“And Ellen’s about four?”

“That’s right. There aren’t many suitable films, and in any case their mother doesn’t like the idea of them sitting in a stuffy picture theatre every weekend. But it’s still too cool for the beach, we’ve done the Undersea World and the Safari Park and the transport museum, and I think even they are getting bored with the zoo. And frankly, if I ever see another hippopotamus or cage full of monkeys, I’m likely to end up behind bars.”

Some more people came up to refresh their drinks, and Rennie and Grant automatically moved away, crowded into a corner. Grant leaned against a shoulder against the wall and said, “And how have you been?”

“Okay. Dad said you asked after me.”

“Yes.”

“You could have called me, if you wanted to know.”

“You’re very good for my ego.”

She made a face at him. “You’re absolutely rotten for mine.”

Grant laughed, and took some more of his drink. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Could I?” She was flirting quite deliberately, enjoying herself.

He smiled. “Easily, as if you didn’t know. Don’t push your luck, little one.”

There was an edge to his voice, a tension in his body that communicated itself to Rennie. She said, “What’s the matter?”

“Matter?” He frowned at her, warily.

“What’s wrong?” she asked bluntly. “You’re not just tired. You’re … angry.”

He gave a small laugh. “How perspicacious of you. I had a row with Jean — my ex-wife — after I took the kids home to her. Very civilised, very quiet, because we don’t want to upset the children, we’re careful about that. But a row all the same.”

“What about?”

He said, “I gave the kids hamburgers and chips, at their request. They took longer to get through the meal than I’d expected. I guess she was worried. She doesn’t approve of junk food anyway, but she might have overlooked that if we hadn’t been so late. However, I’m not about to burden you with my problems. Forget it. Come on, let’s go into the other room and join the party properly.”

Both rooms were equally full now, but the record player was in the lounge, and she wondered if he preferred the noisier setting because it would inhibit intimate conversation.

Her mother looked up when they entered the room, and smiled as they stopped by her.

“You remember Grant, don’t you, Mum?”

Marian smiled at him. “Of course. From the wedding. My husband said he had a very interesting talk with you.”

“Mum,” Rennie said, “Grant has two children to entertain every second weekend. He says he’s running out of places to take them. They could visit us, couldn’t they? They’d love the old tree-house and the swing. And my doll’s house.” She turned to Grant. “My grandad made it for me. It’s a replica of a Victorian cottage. I still have it in my room.”

“Yes, of course,” Marian agreed. “Bring them any time. We often have children to visit, and they usually enjoy themselves.”

“Thank you. That’s very kind.”

Rennie smiled at her mother, wanting to thank her too. Marian gave her a searching look, and directed an interested one at Grant. “Any time,” she repeated.

From then on the party seemed to look up for Rennie. Grant stayed by her side for most of the evening, although they were hardly exclusive. They laughed a lot, and talked, and once or twice she caught his gaze resting on her with a warmth that made her pulse beat faster. She gave him a dazzling smile, and his answering one was a little wry, but it didn’t douse the light in his eyes.

When she left with her family, Rennie was careful not to insist that he bring the children to visit. She sat in the back of the car with Shane, her fingers firmly crossed, looking out the window. She jumped when Shane said suddenly, “He seems a decent bloke.”

“Who?”

“You know who. But he’s a lot older than you, isn’t he? I hope you know what you’re doing, Ren.”

Maybe I don’t, she thought. Not yet. Not exactly. But I know I want to find out more about this man — what he thinks, how he feels. I know I’m attracted to him, excited by him. And not only physically. Just talking to him gives me a buzz, a lift. And the fact that he knows more about life than I do, that he’s experienced more, that’s part of it. Perhaps that’s why he seems more real to me than the younger men I’ve been out with.

Two weeks later, Grant phoned on Sunday morning and asked Marian if he could take up her invitation to visit with the children. “After lunch, he said,” Marian told Rennie.

“Why not for lunch? Did you ask him?”

“Darling, of course I asked him. He said he’d take them out for lunch and call in afterwards.”

“He’s being polite,” Rennie said. “It doesn’t sound as though he really wants to come at all.”

Marian regarded her daughter thoughtfully. “He might just feel a bit diffident about descending on a strange household with two children.” She paused. “Of course, it’s possible the children are horrors, and that’s why he’s reluctant to inflict them on us for any length of time.”

“Ellen isn’t,” Rennie said. She couldn’t imagine any child of Grant’s being a horror.

Toby was a sandy-haired little boy who seemed quietly self-possessed, saying hello politely and then taking stock of his surroundings while he stood with his hands behind his back.

“Daddy said you’d show us your doll’s house,” Ellen told Rennie.

“Yes. Would you like to see it now?”

“Yes.”

Grant murmured, “Please.”

“Yes, please,” Ellen amended. “Toby, too.”

“Of course, Toby too. Come on, I’ll show you.” She took the little girl’s hand, and directed a questioning glance at Grant.

He shook his head. “I’ll wait here.” Rennie’s father had offered him a drink when they arrived, and he was sitting on one of the cane chairs in the glass-walled conservatory that caught the available sun at the back of the house. As she left him with her parents, she felt as though the adults had sent the children off to play. But maybe he wanted a respite from his offspring. A pity, she thought as she showed Ellen and Toby how to open the hinged front of the doll’s house and display the handmade furniture and tiny dolls inside. They seemed nice children, and he didn’t have that much time with them.

“Are we allowed to touch?” Ellen asked.

“Of course.” Kneeling by the child, Rennie took out one of the dolls and handed it to her.

“You’ll be careful, won’t you, Ellen?” Toby said.

Ellen nodded vigorously. “Is this the mummy doll?” she asked Rennie.

“That’s right. And Toby can play with the daddy doll, if he likes.” She handed him the one that was dressed in trousers and shirt, and in a few minutes the two of them were conducting a conversation, and moving the dolls from room to room.

Rennie sat on the bed and watched them, oddly reluctant to return to the conservatory. Toby and Ellen found two smaller dolls in another part of the doll’s house and were now including them in the game, giving them high, squeaky voices. There seemed to be a pretend-argument in progress, until the mother doll was brought in to quell it. Rennie was amused at the accurate rendition of adult inflection that Ellen managed to convey. Toby, bringing the father doll out of the Victorian parlour, deepened his voice and added a stern warning, sending the “children” upstairs to bed.

Rennie looked out of the window. The spring day was cool and breezy, although the sun was shining and most of the blossoms on the old plum tree in the back garden had fallen. When she and Shane were younger they used to climb it, going after the little dark red plums that grew in the topmost branches, even when the ground was littered with fallen fruit. Somehow those they had to climb for had tasted better.

She wanted to show Toby and Ellen the garden, too, with the swing and tree-house. But they were absorbed in their game and she didn’t like to disturb them. She stood up, thinking she would slip out. Toby was walking the father doll into the children’s bedroom. “Goodnight,” Toby made him say in his deepest voice. “You are very naughty children, and I don’t want to live here any more.”

Ellen’s wail was so realistic that Rennie for a moment thought it was genuine, but she saw that it was supposed to be coming from the smaller dolls in the beds. Toby, changing character, joined in too. Then, reverting, he made the father doll kiss the children and stop their crying. “If you’re very, very good,” he said, “I’ll come back.”

Rennie stood riveted as Toby walked the doll out of the house and put it down on the carpet some distance away. Ellen picked up the mother doll and began sniffing. “Daddy’s gone, daddy’s gone away. You naughty, naughty children!” She walked the doll into the bedroom of the house. “Now stop talking and go to sleep! Daddy’s not coming back, not ever, ever, ever!”

Rennie’s throat was aching. She stayed very still, as Ellen walked the doll back to the kitchen and stood it at the sink. Toby swung shut the hinged front, picked up the male doll again and brought it up to the closed door of the house. “Knock, knock, knock,” he said, just as a real knock sounded on the open bedroom door, and Rennie jumped.

“Sorry,” Grant said, looking at her askance. “Your mother’s offering juice and biscuits for the children in the kitchen, and a cup of coffee for you if you want it.”

Ellen scrambled up and ran to catch his hand and drag him into the room. “Look, Daddy! It’s got a real kitchen with all the pots and things, and a little tiny cradle for the baby, and a fireplace with a fire in it!”

Grant stooped and peered in as she pointed. “Yes, I see.”

He spent a few more minutes admiring the various features his daughter pointed out, then straightened and said to Rennie, “It’s good of you to let them play with it. I thought you were just going to allow them a quick look.”

“It’s meant to be played with. It’s very sturdy.”

“We were very careful, Daddy,” Ellen assured him.

“Yes, moppet, I’m sure you were.” He put his hand on her hair. “Now, do you want a biscuit and a drink before we leave?”

“You can’t go yet!” Rennie exclaimed in disappointment. “I want them to see the tree-house. And they haven’t even had a swing.”

“Swing, Daddy!” Ellen said enthusiastically.

“Aren’t you tired of them?” Grant asked Rennie.

“Certainly not! I’m just getting to know them.”

Grant shrugged. “Okay. But we mustn’t outstay our welcome.”

“You won’t. Come on, you two.” Automatically she held out her hands, and the children quite naturally took one each. “How would you like to have your afternoon tea in the tree-hut? My brother and I used to do that sometimes.”

They took to the idea with enthusiasm, and Rennie carried a tray out so that Grant could hand it to them when he had helped Ellen follow her brother up the ladder leading to the hut, weathered but still strong, which nestled in the wide fork of an old pohutukawa. One of the branches held the swing that she had spent hours on as a child. The garden was an old-fashioned half-acre, and the few trees had had time to mature since the house was built almost eighty years before.